“Be good to me, and pass it over if I am wrong,” Emily said: “I can’t dispute with you; I can only tell you what I feel. You have always been so kind to me--may I count on your kindness still?” Doctor Allday relapsed into silence. “May I at least ask,” she went on, “if you know anything of persons--” She paused, discouraged by the cold expression of inquiry in the old man’s eyes as he looked at her. “What persons?” he said. “Persons whom I suspect.” “Name them.” Emily named the landlady of the inn at Zeeland: she could now place the right interpretation on Mrs. Rook’s conduct, when the locket had been put into her hand at Netherwoods. Doctor Allday answered shortly and stiffly: he had never even seen Mrs. Rook. Emily mentioned Miss Jethro next--and saw at once that she had interested him. “What do you suspect Miss Jethro of doing?” he asked. “I suspect her of knowing more of my father’s death than she is willing to acknowledge,” Emily replied. The doctor’s manner altered for the better. “I agree with you,” he said frankly. “But I have some knowledge of that lady. I warn you not to waste time and trouble in trying to discover the weak side of Miss Jethro.” “That was not my experience of her at school,” Emily rejoined. “At the same time I don’t know what may have happened since those days. I may perhaps have lost the place I once held in her regard.” “How?” “Through my aunt.” “Through your aunt?” “I hope and trust I am wrong,” Emily continued; “but I fear my aunt had something to do with Miss Jethro’s dismissal from the school--and in that case Miss Jethro may have found it out.” Her eyes, resting on the doctor, suddenly brightened. “You know something about it!” she exclaimed. He considered a little--whether he should or should not tell her of the letter addressed by Miss Ladd to Miss Letitia, which he had found at the cottage. “If I could satisfy you that your fears are well founded,” he asked, “would the discovery keep you away from Miss Jethro?” “I should be ashamed to speak to her--even if we met.” “Very well. I can tell you positively, that your aunt was the person who turned Miss Jethro out of the school. When I get home, I will send you a letter that proves it.” Emily’s head sank on her breast. “Why do I only hear of this now?” she said. “Because I had no reason for letting you know of it, before to-day. If I have done nothing else, I have at least succeeded in keeping you and Miss Jethro apart.” Emily looked at him in alarm. He went on without appearing to notice that he had startled her. “I wish to God I could as easily put a stop to the mad project which you are contemplating.” “The mad project?” Emily repeated. “Oh, Doctor Allday. Do you cruelly leave me to myself, at the time of all others, when I am most in need of your sympathy?” That appeal moved him. He spoke more gently; he pitied, while he condemned her.